


He Prays For Love

by ChickenXD



Series: Nobody Else Above You [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Android Hank Anderson, Depression, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Role Reversal, thank you twitter for cursing me into writing this content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenXD/pseuds/ChickenXD
Summary: Essentially an AU where Connor is the human detective and Hank is an android assigned to help him with the deviant case. A riff on the scene where Connor finds Hank drunk at home.





	He Prays For Love

“Level fourteen.”

The elevator stops, and a loud ding ensues as the door opens.

Hank steps out of the elevator and into the hallway in front of him. There’s a shiny plaque with apartment numbers and arrows directing to where they should be mounted on the door next to him.

Unit 1412 – the arrow for units 1410-1419 points to the left.

The unit is almost to the end of the hallway, across from the emergency door – the numbers 1412 is carved into the door.

He presses the little button on top of the handle, and it makes a loud buzzing sound.

“Detective Anderson?”

No answer.

He looks around to see if there are any windows that might look into the unit, but none – the windows around him are all tightly shut and covered.

He presses the button again, holding it longer this time.

“Connor? It’s me, Hank.”

Maybe he’ll hear it the second time.

He’s basically gone all over town looking for Connor. Went to look for him at his usual bar – he’s not there – went to his usual dispensary – no, not here either – tried to call him and ask where he is – of course he doesn’t pick up, he really values his time off work –

He can faintly hear a dog barking inside. He did see some dog pictures on Connor’s desk – it’s a shiba inu named Sushi. So at least the dog must’ve heard the doorbell, but not Connor.

Is he asleep? Passed out? Hank can’t really see what’s going on in there…

He looks at the numeral pad above the handle. If only he knows the combination…

Maybe 0906, Connor’s birthday?

The indicator turns red. Hank should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. What other important numbers are there?

He looks up at the door, at the unit number carved on the door.

The indicator blinks green.

This seem terrsibly characteristic of Connor – make it his unit number, so he doesn’t have to remember it every time... Hank decides he should still advise Connor to replace it.

He turns the handle, and immediately everything around him smells like alcohol. Hank finds the light switch and flicks it on.

 

Connor’s lying on the couch, still wearing the same shirt he wore earlier to work. Sushi’s attention immediately turned to Hank, and he barks louder as he approaches Hank.

“It’s okay, Sushi,” Hank said as he bends over to pet the dog – “I’m Connor’s friend, you see. I’m just going to wake him up.

Sushi seems to calm down upon hearing his own name, but still continues to sniff Hank’s feet, even if he probably smells like nothing – Sushi decides Hank passes the inspection, and turns to walk away.

“Connor?”

He doesn’t seem to be responding. Hank notices a bottle of Bacardi on the table that’s only got about a third of its contents left. Did he drink that much in one sitting?

“Connor, can you hear me?”

Hank carefully shakes Connor’s shoulders, but Connor just lets out a little grunt.

He can’t just let Connor continue to sleep – the alcohol is still working in his body, and who knows what could happen.

“Wake up, Connor.”

“Go away,” Connor mutters softly as he raises his hand to push Hank away. Hank moves away to see if Connor’s going to get up by himself, but he just lets out a long sigh and falls back unconscious.

Hank sighs as he slides his hand under his chest and legs to lift him up. This instantly alerts Connor.

“Hey, the fuck, dude?!”

“I’m going to get you sobered up for your own safety.”

“Leave me alone, you fucking creep!” Connor yells, wriggling his legs to try to break free, but Hank is persistent. At some he almost falls off from moving too much, so he quickly wraps his arm around Hank’s neck to hold on.

“Let me go! I’m not a fucking baby!”

“I wouldn’t want you to fall over and injure yourself, Detective.”

Hank carries him into the bathroom and carefully places him in the tub – Connor grunts and he slowly falls over to the side, and he would’ve hit his head on the tub if Hank didn’t catch him and straighten him up. Hank turns the faucet, feeling the water temperature with his fingertips to make sure it’s not cold.

“Who the fuck let you in?”

“Maybe you should make your passcode less obvious, Detective.”

“Oh my god…” Connor slicks his hair back with his hand, “Leave me alone, Hank. Nobody called you here.”

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I need you.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

Connor suddenly lunges forward and grabs Hank’s collar.

“You think it’s cute?” he hisses, “Just because you look like a fucking grandpa and I have daddy issues doesn’t mean you can walk around telling me what to do.”

“That’s not what I intended,” Hank replied, “It’s the investigation, Detective.”

“My god, the investigation, the investigation…” Hank feels Connor’s grip tighten on his shirt – “That’s all you fucking care about, huh?”

“Detective, with all due respect–”

“I can handle the fucking investigation myself!” Connor suddenly yells at his face, “What do you think I am, a fucking five year old?”

He finally lets go of Hank and pushes him away.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Not with you looking like that, Detective.”

“I said,” Connor gets up from the bathtub, “I said get the fuck out of here!”

There’s no point in arguing with Connor if he’s drunk like this – but on the other hand, he really shouldn’t leave. Connor is not stable enough yet, so Hank would at least have to make sure he’s settled for the night before he leaves.

Hank nods as turns off the water and gets up to leave.

 

A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago. A man found dead in a sex club downtown.

The police suspect it may have to do with deviants, so naturally, Hank and Connor have been asked to investigate it.

 

He can faintly hear Connor crying from inside the bathroom.

Well, they’re probably not going to make it tonight. He sends that message to Ben Collins.

 

Sushi is now playing with a little chew toy shaped like a hotdog, apparently oblivious to his owner’s turmoil. Hank leans over to try to pet him, but Sushi keeps moving away from him, probably suspicious of this scentless stranger. That’s understandable.

“Does your owner do this a lot?”

Sushi barks.

 

Hank starts to get some water boiling, and looks inside the cupboards to find a clean glass. Might as well clean up around here while waiting for Connor to calm down – he picks up the stack of empty pizza boxes on the table and puts them in the trash. There are also a few mugs scattered across the kitchen, mostly filled with cold coffee, so he pours them out into the sink and places them in the dishwasher.

He notices a knife lying next to the dishwasher, with a blood stain on the sharp edge of it. He swipes a ‘sample’ with his finger and licks it–

It’s Connor’s blood. Did he accidentally cut himself?

 

He turns to the couch where Connor was lying down, and notices a framed picture placed face down on the coffee table. He picks it up–

It’s a picture of a woman and a little boy – Connor, when he was younger.

 

**Deceased**

**Anderson, Catherine Gray**

**Born: 10/6/1985 – Died: 04/19/2035**

 

He puts the picture back down.

He picks up the bottle of alcohol and puts it in the cupboard, on the highest shelf. Maybe then Connor will feel too lazy to get it.

 

“Detective?”

Hank slowly opens the door and takes a peek. Connor’s still in the bathtub, fully dressed, staring blankly at the wall – he seems to have heard Hank coming in, though, and slowly turns to look at him.

He does look like a mess. His cotton shirt is soaking up all the water from the bathtub, his eyes are red and swollen from crying, and his face is pale.

“What?”

He sounds way too calm compared to before, almost sedated.

“You should rest for the night,” Hank said, “I told Detective Collins we won’t be joining them today.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, “If you leave me alone I’ll take a bath, so go away.”

“You’ve been in here for ten minutes,” Hank replied, “It’s best that you get dried up and drink something. I’ve made tea for you.”

“I said I’m fine!”

Hank closes the door just in time for Connor to throw a bottle of shampoo at him.

 

He turns to Connor’s room, just across from the toilet. He feels a little bad, feeling like he’s invading Connor’s privacy, but he still has to help Connor.

Connor’s room is no less messy than the outside, except it smells strongly of weed and cigarettes in here. His bed is a mess, and there are some stains on the blanket… Hank’s not going to bother sampling that. There are lots of clothes strewn in one corner of the room, too, it’s about time for Connor to do some laundry.

He opens the wardrobe and picks up a towel, a Detroit Police hoodie, and some fleece sweatpants before turning back into the bathroom.

 

Connor’s now kneeling on the floor by the toilet, hands grasping the seat, loudly throwing up the contents of his stomach.

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, “Why the fuck are you still here?”

“I’m not going to leave you in this condition, Connor.”

“I’ve been worse,” Connor replied, “And look, I’m like, still alive…”

Hank hands him the towel, and Connor takes it gratefully, starting by drying his hair.

“Fuck, look at me, can’t even take care of my fucking self,” he mutters, “I don’t… I don’t need no android to take care of me. I’m not that useless, am I? Am I, Hank?”

He starts to unbutton his shirt – Hank quietly wonders if he should step out at this point and leave Connor to it– 

He can’t help but notice the little scars running up Connor’s arm. He thinks back to the knife in the kitchen.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me strip?” Connor asks, “You into that shit, Hank?”

“I’m sorry,” Hank replied as he hands Connor his clothes, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“It’s fine,” Connor groans, “Just like, close your eyes or something.”

Hank nods and does exactly that.

“What’s the fucking case about anyway? Let’s go.”

“A man was found dead in Eden Club downtown. They suspect it may have to do with deviants.”

“Oh fuck, so I can’t go there anymore?”

Connor grabs his arm for support as he stands up – Hank opens his eyes to see Connor, now dry and fully dressed, even if he’s still standing wobbly.

“I don’t think we should go, Connor.”

“Why? You can drive me there, right?”

“I think it’s best for you to rest until your condition improves,” Hank replied, “Besides, it might be dangerous there, and I don’t think you can effectively defend yourself in this state.”

“Huh.”

He looks up at Hank with a tired smile.

“Can’t believe the only person who cares for me in this fucking world is an android.”

Connor sighs as he slumps onto Hank, apparently still too weak to walk. Hank grabs Connor’s arm to wrap it around his neck, and slowly walks him into his room. Once in the bedroom, he gently lays Connor on his bed – rolls him over slightly so he’s lying on his side, not on his back – and pulls the blanket up to his shoulder.

“Please remain on your side,” Hank said, “Just in case you vomit again.”

“I’m fine…”

He slightly wiggles around to find the most comfortable position in his bed, and then squeezes his eyes shut.

“Sorry, Hank.”

“It’s alright.”

“I really have nobody else in this world…” Connor lets out a long sigh, “And even you, you don’t like, care about me. You’re just putting up with my shit because you have to do your job.”

“That’s not true.”

“Bullshit,” Connor mutters, “You’re not like, my dad. Even my dad doesn’t give a fuck about me, why should you?”

“Because…”

Hank can’t find a way to put it into words.

Connor always tries so hard to look tough, to make it look like he doesn’t care what others think of him, but there’s a vulnerability inside him. Something that makes Hank feel strangely protective of him, despite it not being part of his program.

“Don’t go anywhere, Hank,” Connor mumbles, “Just like, sleep on the floor or something, okay? Don’t leave me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you twitter for cursing me with this content  
> ALSO if you wanna talk about dbh on twitter i made a side twitter specifically for it, @1isblue  
> thank you lads


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